Horse Testicles [new link to photos]

7th August 2008

The array of dark meat could have been nothing other than horse. The slices were beautifully arranged, darker to lighter, across the large plate. The oval slices at the end of the platter which contained stringy white jelly like intestines could only be one thing.

[click here for pictures]

I tried a tiny amount and the taste was enough to make me spit it out. Perhaps it was more to do with how I could not separate the image in my head from the taste on the tongue. Fellow Y2 teacher Anthony also tried, and buoyed by my lame attempt, he managed to swallow a whole mouthful- quickly followed by a swig of beer. Neither of us would fare well on that Fear Factor TV gameshow. It has to be said though, the other cuts where very tasty.

The Uzbek restaurant was partially open air, with intricately carved booths and ornate woodwork structures. The middle eastern influence was strong, with an Islamic style dome and beautiful gardens in the forecourt.

The meal was followed by dancers, acrobats on a highwire and belly dancers who put on an amazing display to a pounding remix of Uzbek folk tunes and heavy eastern rhythms. Tips for the performers were collected by belly dancers offering a scantily clad gyrating waist line to mildly embarrassed English gents. It was at least tasteful, and only cost me 200 tengei. However, I did have to use two hands- unlike Moses, the Austalian pilot chap opposite, who seemed to have one handed donations perfected to a fine art.

Then followed the disco dancing, live band and general amusement. I discovered here that those moves from the dancefloors of my youthgroup days are back in. Bad attempts at boy band steps, mini routines of arm waving, twisting, moonwalking. Refreshingly the men here dance with gay abandon displaying flair and impromptu mal-coordination. It’s all in the arms which is good news for me. But that Ricky Gervais routine hasn’t reached here yet. A couple of the local guys looked upon this with confusion, linked hands again and went back to the country dancing pop steps. The paper serviettes waving in their empty hands were a nice touch of flair and flourish.

Then I encountered the most scarily passionate 50-something Kazakh lady who took the dancefloor by storm, systematically propositioning previously confident Englishmen who now cowered behind any available body on the dancefloor. She locked onto me briefly and after miming some kind of mauling action which involved clawed hands around her jaw and bosom I managed to palm her off on the Headmaster in the middle of the dancefloor and made a sharp exit. I figured we’d never have to see her again so no need for a softly softly exit. Turns our she is on staff and head of the Kazakh Language department in the school. Break times could be interesting.

We haven’t seen the school site yet as it is still being finished. Some parts may not be completed in time for term. If the canteen isn’t working we will have to do half days and send students home for lunch. This will give us extra time for planning (haven’t done much yet). Let’s hope the school meals are based on grammar school recipes, 5- a-day portions and Jamie Oliver inventions otherwise I fear local cuisine could interpret meatballs and chips as a distinctly different menu proposition. And I don’t have the balls for that.